


A Lovely Place to Die

by Poplitealqueen



Series: Reasons I'm Probably Going to Hell [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, And actual fuck for a certain lucky cannibal, Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mind Fuck, Multiple Personalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5820439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poplitealqueen/pseuds/Poplitealqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happens to Will Graham when he loses time? Where does his mind go, and who takes his place?</p><p>OR</p><p>Hannibal hopping on dat like a randy penguin on viagra (Did you know penguins are the horniest creatures in the world? I shit you not, those adorable flightless birds are hedonistic deviants...plus, they look like they wear lil suits. Hannibal wears suits, too. He wears them very well.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovely Place to Die

**Author's Note:**

> Once upon a time, back when I was a slightly littler lass with only a single season of Hannibal to chew on, I attempted to write fic for it. Then I promptly forgot about it until stumbling on old docs I had stashed away. Thought it could be fun to post what I have up. It isn't much, but it definitely tickles me psychological fuckery kink...And my innocent Will Graham Kink...And my Hannigram kink.
> 
> Basically, it was just one giant kinkfest that I never actually completed. Ah well. I wasn't properly equipped at the time to write for a classy show like this one, tbh. It's gore with style. Mine is gore with bad punctuation.
> 
> I'm apprehensive to say it sucks. Mostly because that insinuates that I've actually, you know, _improved_ my writing in the threeish years since I wrote this. I don't have that level of self-confidence quite yet. I'll leave it for you to decide, I suppose. I do hope I've improved, though, or at the very least stayed level. Again, ah well.
> 
> -Miss Pop

 

Will sat in the farthest, darkest corner of the Antler Room, arms wrapped around his knees as he breathed deeply. Hannibal took the stairs one at a time, slow and measured. When he reached the top, he approached the detective.

"Will?"

The man looked up, and through terrified eyes and stringy hair he smiled. Hannibal couldn't help but smile back, like a a parent does to a child that is scared of shadows. He stopped in front of Will and his hand out. The detective laid his face against the palm, pressing harder toward it when Hannibal ghosted his fingers lightly across his flushed cheek.

"Will," he continued, "Come with me. I would like to show you something."

As usual, this mute variation of Will's personality followed. Hannibal led the way back to the cabin with Will all but clinging to his side. If it had been anyone else, he would have considered it a violation of his private space; a rude thing. But not with Will; never with Will. He allowed the younger man to cling to his coat sleeve, and occasionally play with the long, pale fingers of his hand like they were new toys, bending them up and down at the knuckles. Hannibal found it oddly endearing, and enjoyed the feverish warmth of the hands whose nails were bitten down to the stub caressing his own, cold ones.

He held the screen door to the kitchen open and ushered Will into the darkened room. Through the other doorway, where the sitting room was, the sharp tang of swear and terror filled Hannibal's senses, along with a terrified intake of breath.

Hannibal allowed one side of his mouth to quirk up in the shadow of a smile. "This way." He said, taking Will's hand in his. "I have a surprise for you."

They went into the dark sitting room, where Abigail lay on the carpeted floor with hands and feet tied, and mouth gagged. Her big blue eyes wide. Hannibal looked at her, expressionless, hiding farther back in the shadowed doorway so all that she saw was Will Graham, feeling almost from far away the sweaty palm slipping from his, and Will kneeling before the girl. His heart rate had gone up as well. Delicately, he undid the gag around Abigail's mouth.

"Mmngh-Mr. Graham! Help me!" Her voice was shrill as she pleaded with Will. Her eyes were glistening with tears, and they were soon running down her cheeks in shining rivulets. "P-please!! It was him! I'm sorry - so sorry! It wasn't you, Hannibal murdered them all." She didn't realize he stood in the shadows.

"Will, please. He's a killer. Help me, help-help me. He's gonna kill me, and-and blame you. Puh-please. I don't know when he'll come back! Untie me, please!!"

Will had watched her almost blankly up until that moment, but then immediately set to untying the knot around her wrists.

"Thank you thank you...Hannibal, he's a monster... Thank you." She began to smile in horrid relief, then a flash of light caught her eyes. She looked over Will's shoulder in pure terror when Hannibal emerged from the dark to grab her by her long, auburn hair. Will gasped and reached toward her.

"Leave it, Will." Hannibal commanded, frowning down at Abigail as he dragged her by the hair toward the kitchen.

"NonononoNONONONO - HEEEEELP!!!" Her shriek was one of primordial fear, and like the animal she was, she began to claw and cling to anything she could reach. Her nails dug into Graham's forearms, cutting open clammy flesh so that fresh blood began to seep from them. The scent caught Hannibal almost unawares, the iron aroma mixed with the sign of Will suddenly becoming terrified nearly pushing him over the edge. He allowed himself a moment to give into daydreams; he was never forced into anything, even by his own mind.  If it weren't for the yowling girl, he would have licked the wounds clean, savoring each read stream like it was a rare vintage, and watched as Will adored him for it. Would've smiled with red teeth and laid the small man down on the couch, and while he still floated on that adoration, sank his teeth into those pale, chapped lips; the pulsing Adam's Apple; and then...But he had work to do. It would have to wait. He pulled the girl from Will's arms, his nails digging into her arm in a mockery of the desperate rake of her's.

"Stay here." He said to Will, who looked at his face for assurance. "I'll help you in a moment." He held a hand out to Will, palm up. The girl began to swat at him, and he swiftly snapped her thin elbows under his foot. She screamed, and Will fell away from his outreached hand, scooting backwards until he was stopped by the wall behind him. For a moment, Hannibal felt a sinking feeling. Will was scared...Of him? But then he saw how his gaze was centered on Abigail as she cried and screamed. _The noise._ Of course. This Will had never heard screams, never seen the terror that came before death.

Hannibal could remedy that.

Throwing her roughly into the kitchen, Hannibal slammed her into the wooden cabinets under the sink, pulled the knife from the counter, and thrust it into her throat repeatedly. The screaming stopped, and the torrent of blood began. The arterial spray exploded in an eruption of red, spraying all around her and onto Hannibal. He let go of her hair, and watched her form fall ragdoll-like to the floor and half submerge into the puddle of blood forming under her. He watched her die, bringing out a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face and hands. It was a shame he'd have to burn the silk square. He sighed and turned back to the living room. There were more important things to attend to then the lamentation of a lost kerchief.

But when he entered, he found Will Graham gone.

* * *

Will Graham was sobbing now.

The next thing either of them knew, he had his arms tight around Hannibal. He buried his face into his shoulder, his glasses slipping up to his forehead. Hannibal brought his fingers through the younger man's hair in a practiced motion, murmuring reassuringly in his ear.

"W-w-why did she have to die?" Will asked; except it wasn't the Will it had been moments before. His voice was softer, more unsure, with emotions rising to the surface that the normal Will wouldn't even acknowledge. Hannibal found himself acutely aware, more so then he usually was, of the pitiful creature wrapped around him.

This was **his** Will: the silent one born in secret from loneliness; the one that followed his every command without question in a way that reminded him of one of the specialist's many strays. **His** stray, taken from the cold nebula of his mind and into the arms of a monster. Hannibal found himself smirking into the young man's tousled brown hair.

 **His** Will had finally decided to speak.

* * *

 

"He is going to kill me, you know." Will growled to his other self. He felt the phantom pains of the knife slicing into his chest; of a tongue that burned hotter than fire. Branding him. "In face, he may have already."

The other Will studied him quietly. They were identical in looks, yes, but the other Will seemed to contain all the serenity that Will Graham himself lacked. He hated it. He hated him, and he hated himself. If he even had a 'self' anymore.

"...You do have a self." The other murmured softly. "You've finally found it. Don't lose it again...I don't want to go back... _There._ "

"There?" Will asked.

"Out," The other Will explained. "When you lost time, it was **me** who came out, and I'm sure you know. I'm your subconscious; the truly innocent good in you that the real you protects."

"You're saying you're not real?"

"I'm very real, but you shouldn't know that I exist! Neither should the good doctor."

"But he does." Will quirked an eyebrow. "He thinks I killed you, or something just as final."

The other Will contemplated that. "In a way, you did. You beat me back into your mind, so, in theory, whatever personality I developed when I was in control could be considered 'dead'."

"What does that make you now then?"

"Whatever I was meant to be. " The other answered back cryptically. "But that only raises a very important question: why have you brought me back, Will?"

"I don't know."

"Then I can only assume I do not as well."

"My trial is tomorrow."

"Mm, yes. And when do you see the doctor again?"

"In a few minutes, if I'm counting the clock right."

"Well, Will Graham, either way I feel we will die here."

Will Graham looked around at the grey-stone walls of his cell; at the pictures he'd been able to hide from the Ripper and Chilton of Alana with his many strays; at his own tired physique mirrored in his other.

"It's a lovely place to die."

 


End file.
